"What do you think ?" Neville laughed: "Why don't you?
She's the nicest girl I ever knew--almost." "I'd ask her to marry me," said Cameron facetiously; "only I'm afraid such a dazzling prospect would turn her head and completely spoil her." He spoke gaily and laughed loudly--almost boisterously.

Neville glanced at him with a feeling that Cameron was slightly overdoing it--rather forcing the mirth without any particular reason.
After a moment he said: "Sandy, you don't have to be a clown if you don't want to be, you know." "Can't help it," said Cameron, reddening; "everybody expects it now.
When Ogilvy was here we played in a double ring to crowded houses.

Every seat on the veranda was taken; we turned 'em away, my boy.

_What_ was it you started to say about Stephanie ?" "I didn't start to say anything about Stephanie." "Oh, I thought you were going to"-- his voice died into an uncertain grumble.

Neville glanced at him again, thoughtfully.
"You know, Sandy," he said, "that there's another side to you--which, for some occult reason you seem to hide--even to be ashamed of." "Sure I'm ashamed to be a broker with all you highbrows lining out homers for the girls while I have to sit on the bleachers and score 'em up.